


Speech

by Kass



Series: Stargate Atlantis fanworks [49]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Kink, M/M, Talking, commentfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-26
Updated: 2008-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'It's not like I talk all the time,' Rodney protested.</p><p>Inspired by a poll in Lenore's journal about SGA characters' kinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speech

**Author's Note:**

> This began its life as comment!fic in Lenore's journal, based on the notion that for Rodney, the real kink wouldn't be talking dirty -- it would be staying silent.  
> Many thanks to Lamardeuse for assuring me that this was coherent!!

"Oh, please," Rodney said. "Like that's really any  
kind of challenge."

"You're just saying that because you know you  
couldn't do it." John sounded smug and self-satisfied. He looked  
it, too, lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head,  
his mouth faintly reddened from kissing.

"Okay, I don't know what kind of -- it's not  
like I talk all the time," Rodney protested.

Predictably, John put on his sarcastic face.  
Which didn't actually look any different from his regular face, but  
Rodney could tell the difference.

"Besides, wouldn't you want something a little  
more...outre?" He'd been expecting something a little...kinkier,  
frankly, when he made the offer.

"You were hoping for, what, spanking? Women's  
lingerie?"

"Shut up," Rodney said, his face pinking.  
"Look! Fine! If it's what you really want -- "

"More than anything in the world," John said,  
and his voice was so facetious Rodney had to sock him in the arm.  
"Ow!"

"Fuck you," Rodney said quietly, a cloud of  
unhappiness settling over him. Try to do something nice, and where  
did it get him? Snide insinuations about how he talked too much.  
Not exactly a complaint he'd never heard before, but he hadn't  
expected it from John.

He pushed himself to sitting and started  
hunting for his socks. One of them was at the foot of the bed;  
where the hell had the other one gone?

"Hey." Now John sounded concerned.

Rodney stiffened his back, and felt his jaw  
tightening to go with it.

"Hey. C'mere." John tugged at his arm, and  
feigning more reluctance than he actually felt Rodney went. John  
kissed him once, twice, an obvious apology, and Rodney let him. "I  
didn't mean to be a dick," John said, mouthing Rodney's neck up  
toward his ear. "I like listening to you talk."

"You'd better," Rodney said, finally relaxing  
back into the embrace.

"I just think it would be really hot," John  
murmured, right in his ear, and Rodney shivered.

"I was -- it was supposed to be something I  
could do for _you_."

"Believe me," John said darkly, "it is." He bit  
Rodney's earlobe.

"Well, fine," Rodney said, feeling a little bit  
mollified and a little bit like things were spinning out of his  
control. "I guess I can let you have your nefarious way with me.  
Just this once."

"Shhh," John said, and shimmied his body out  
from under Rodney's, turning them so that Rodney was lying on his  
back and John was on top. He knelt back on his heels, straddling  
Rodney's hips, and the predatory gleam in his eyes made Rodney  
suddenly weak in the knees even though he was lying down.

And then he just waited there, looking down at  
Rodney.

Rodney opened his mouth to say "Were you  
planning on doing something anytime today?" but closed it before  
any of the words got out.

Damn. It was possible that not-talking was  
going to be trickier than he had anticipated.

The silence stretched longer than he was  
comfortable with, and Rodney was on the verge of reaching up to  
grab John, just to make something _happen_, when John  
said -- quietly, conversationally -- "You drive me crazy."

Whatever he'd been expecting John to say, it  
hadn't been that.

"Not, like, you annoy me to death," John said,  
and his smile wasn't visible but it was totally present, "though  
you kind of do, sometimes."

Thanks a lot, Rodney thought, trying to project  
the words via telepathy. John's smirk suggested he had succeeded.

"I mean, it makes me crazy sometimes, wanting  
to touch you."

Rodney swallowed hard, feeling poleaxed. I'm  
right here, he thought. Touch all you want.

But John didn't touch him yet, just kept  
looking, and Rodney felt the prickle of sweat beginning to arise  
beneath the heat of John's regard.

"We'll be in a meeting," John gave a little  
shrug, "and I'll remember what your body feels like in my hands."  
John's hands, resting lightly on his own thighs, tensed and  
released, and Rodney felt himself yearning upward toward them.  
Craving them.

"Your...chest," John said diffidently, "your  
hips," and Rodney couldn't help it, he was staring at John, knowing  
way too much emotion was probably showing on his face but he  
couldn't help himself. He sucked at poker, always had. And  
apparently he sucked at separating sex from emotion, too, because  
listening to John catalogue his body parts was making him  
desperately hard and making his heart ache all at the same time.  
"Your ass," John said, and was it Rodney's imagination or had his  
voice gotten lower?

Rodney couldn't help it: he twitched, he wanted  
to reach up for John, even though he wasn't sure John wanted him  
to. Maybe John just wanted him to be still and silent. The thought  
filled him with an inchoate panic, because he couldn't -- he  
wasn't -- passive was terrifying, what if John wanted --

But John responded to Rodney's motion  
instantly, like a piece of Ancient technology responding to a  
thought. He dropped immediately over Rodney, braced arms holding  
him just high enough to initiate a kiss. Rodney's hands came up to  
hold John's head at the right angle, and their hips ground  
together, and Rodney felt like he might fly apart. And there was  
John's tongue in his mouth, John's hard dick poking him in the  
thigh, and Rodney felt deliciously...plundered, somehow, which was  
not a word he'd ever imagined applying to himself. Life in the  
Pegasus galaxy was glorious and strange.

When they broke they were both breathing hard,  
and Rodney opened his mouth to say how good this felt, but John put  
a finger on his lips. "Ah ah," he cautioned, raising an eyebrow,  
and Rodney bit back a moan as he thrust up. He'd almost forgotten  
the weirdly dangerous game they were playing, but now that John had  
reminded him, his resolve was back in full force. He'd broken  
John's ironic distance; it would be easier from here on out, just a  
matter of not making noise no matter how good the sex felt.

John tugged at his shirt, yanking it halfway up  
his body, far enough to expose his nipples, and then bent; Rodney  
braced himself for a bite, but it didn't come. Instead John was  
dropping little closed-mouthed kisses down his chest to his belly.

Not the part of his body he was proudest of,  
Rodney could admit that, and if this were an ordinary night he  
would already have made some caustic remark to that effect,  
defusing the situation by showing he knew where his strengths lay  
and his belly wasn't one of them. But this time he couldn't; he had  
to just lie there and take it, let John feather kisses across his  
stomach with a tenderness that made Rodney's eyes sting.

And then John moved and lightning-quick licked  
Rodney's left nipple, his tongue startling and warm and _oh_  
God Rodney bucked up, but John knew how to use his own weight  
to hold a guy down. Rodney's dick throbbed.

"I think about the things I want to do to you,"  
John said, picking up the thread of their conversation from where  
he'd dropped it. Only it wasn't a conversation, because Rodney was  
(hard, aching, desperate) keeping quiet. John reached down and  
unzipped Rodney's trousers, pushed at his waistband, and Rodney  
lifted his hips and hastily helped John shove his pants down his  
hips. John seemed to have some kind of plan, and Rodney was not  
about to get in the way.

John bent and nuzzled at the base of his cock  
and his balls. Rodney swallowed a whimper.

"I think a lot about doing this," John said,  
way more nonchalantly than was reasonable, and took Rodney into his  
mouth.

Rodney inhaled hard. In the silence of John's  
room the sounds of John's mouth and the sounds of his own breathing  
were almost obscene. John's mouth was too hot to be believed, and  
he alternated light suction with licking and then sucking hard,  
keeping Rodney off-balance. This whole thing made Rodney feel dizzy  
and out-of-kilter, like he couldn't be sure of the room's gravity.

There was an audible pop as John pulled back,  
exposing Rodney's tender cock to the open air. With what little  
part of his brain was still functional, Rodney wondered how to make  
sure his body language read as pleading, to match the chant of  
"fuck, John, please" in his mind.

John's hands took over, rubbing and caressing,  
and Rodney shuddered. John was amazing, filthy, diabolical, way too  
good at this, somehow able to reach right past Rodney's defenses.  
It was a good thing he was keeping his mouth pressed shut; the  
names that wanted to escape now were furious and tender and way too  
revealing.

"Sometims I think about things we haven't even  
tried yet," John said, and now his voice was gritty and incredibly  
sexy. I would beg, Rodney thought, incoherent with want. I would  
beg you right now, if you let me. "Turning you over -- " and his  
hands left Rodney's body and Rodney wanted to scream wait, no,  
where are you going, you weren't done yet, but then John reached  
over him to retrieve the lube from his bedside and Rodney squeezed  
his eyes shut and started reciting gate addresses in his head to  
keep from coming right that instant.

"--and putting my mouth on you," and Rodney  
heard the snap of the cap coming open, the squirt of the bottle,  
and then John's hands returned to his erection cold and slick and  
sliding. Not moaning out loud was possibly the most difficult thing  
Rodney had ever done in his life.

"I don't even know if you like that," John  
said, and Rodney's eyes flew open in indignation, because what kind  
of idiot didn't like getting rimmed? and oh, God, John was  
grinning, he looked as happy as Rodney had ever seen him, the  
bastard was _enjoying_ this. "Given the way you're moving,"  
he said, and that pull-and-stroke made Rodney's eyes want to roll  
back in his head, "I'm guessing you like it."

You're killing me, Rodney thought. I'm going to  
die of orgasm. I'm not even sure I mind.

"I wonder if I could make you come that way,"  
John mused aloud as one slick thumb stroked back and brushed across  
his asshole, and that was it -- Rodney was coming harder than he  
could ever remember doing in his life, and he couldn't hold back  
his agonized groan of delight.

"Oh God," John said, thickly, and Rodney was  
dimly conscious of him reaching down and shoving one slick hand  
down his own pants and clutching himself as his body jerked above  
Rodney's, spasming.

John collapsed on top of him, breathing hard,  
and Rodney's arms came up and around him, and for a minute they  
just lay there.

"We need a shower," John said, eventually,  
laughing a little.

"Whose fault is that," Rodney said, though  
there was no rancor in it at all. He'd come so hard he'd knocked  
his sarcasm offline, he thought, and stifled a giggle.

"C'mon," John said, working his way to his feet  
and pulling Rodney with him toward the shower.

While they waited for the water to heat up,  
Rodney kissed him again. He tried to make the kiss say everything  
he couldn't quite figure out how to find words for. _How did you_  
know and _oh God that was good_ and _I think I might  
be in love with you_.

"That was even more fun than I expected," John  
said as they stepped under the spray.

"Me too," Rodney admitted. God: who'd known  
John had so much to _say_?

"That was hot, right?"

"Yes! Okay, I admit it, you were right,  
already."

John soaped up his own chest, then moved his  
sudsy hands to Rodney's, which felt amazing. "Next time," John  
murmured in his ear, "we get a blindfold."

It was physically impossible to get hard again  
this soon, but Rodney shivered anyway. "Next time," he said, as  
firmly as he could manage, "it's your turn."


End file.
